It's Only A Matter of Stature
by ColonelGenya
Summary: A mysterious series of murders in Central City requires investigator Colonel Genya and her partner to be called out. But when they begin to piece together the clues, will the killer come after them next? Edward meets someone shorter than himself...
1. Chapter 1

My first-ever fanfiction, to be an ongoing series. Please enjoy! I will happily read critiques and take suggestions to heart, but I'm not going to beg for them. Critique only if you wish to.

DISCLAIMER: I do not, as much as I wish I did, own FMA. I did, however, come up with the bizarre character names, and the non-FMA characters mentioned below.

"Look! A cow!" I exclaimed delightedly, pointing out the window of the train with one gloved hand. My partner, as I refer to him, who really is my subordinate, sighed disgustedly and glanced for the millionth time at his silver watch. He growled something under his breath and pocketed it, then began drumming his fingers on the armrest.

"Look! Another cow!"

"What is it with you and large bovinoid animals, Colonel?" he snapped finally, a scathing tone in his voice.

"They're the best! Look at the way they, like, move! And it's freakin' awesome how they can stick their tongues up their noses. Plus, if there were no cows, then there'd be no milk, and ultimately—"

"—no chocolate, I'm well aware." He uncrossed his legs, shifting restlessly. The Lieutenant isn't known for his patience. "Dammit, how much longer until we get there!"

"Not long." I stared out the window some more, counting cows. We were quiet for a good stretch of time, until we hit Central City's limits, where the farmland melted into grey cement and black pavement. In less than five minutes the train shuddered to a halt.

The Lieutenant was on his feet before we had even stopped moving, grabbing his suitcase from under the seat and walking towards the door impatiently. I sighed, and followed suit not long after, shouldering my rucksack. I stepped out into the warm summer air of the city, stretching happily. It had been a long ride from the mountains, but considering that the case we would be working on here promised to be interesting, it was damn well worth it.

"You see anyone yet?" I asked.

The Lieutenant shook his head. "Not a soul. They're late."

"More's the pity. Who are they sending again?"

"That skirt-chaser Mustang and couple of the oafish behemoths he calls "subordinates", though they really are more like large troll-like boulders with porno magazines where their brains should be," he growled, lighting a cigarette. "And some bratty little kid named Fullmetal."

"Fullmetal? Isn't he the youngest State Alchemist ever?"

"Quite. He beat you to it, eh, Genya?"

"Only by about two years…"

He chuckled. "No need to sound so bitter. So far as I know, you're the youngest female State Alchemist they've got."

"And you're probably the shortest."

At four foot six, the Lieutenant was only about level with most peoples' chests. He gave me a hard look, frowning slightly. "You jest."

"Nope! Sorry, my friend, he's got at least five inches on you."

He sighed sadly, scuffing the ground with the heel of his boot. You could almost feel sorry for him, and I say almost because he's got the kind of temper that can lift a city bus when engaged.

"Are you Colonel Genya Erdien, the White Wolf Alchemist?" inquired an authoritative voice.

"Indeed I am," I answered. "And you must be the Flame Alchemist, Roy Mustang."

Roy was tall and lean, with a sort of lazily confident look to him. He had a shock of stylishly ruffled jet-black hair and dark brown eyes, gleaming knowingly. I shook his hand. He had a firm grip, usually a sign of good character. He looked down at my partner.

"And you would be…" Mustang frowned at his clipboard, trying to decipher the name written there. "Uhm…err…the Blade Alchemist, Lieutenant…?"

"Killan Fellslift," growled the person in question, pinching the bridge of his nose in aggravation.

"Ah. A very…interesting name. May I introduce you to my subordinates?" Roy gestured to the two men accompanying him, a tall blonde man and a shorter guy with black hair. The taller one saluted stiffly, a cigarette hanging from the corner of his mouth.

"2nd Lieutenant Jean Havoc, at your service," he said. He had half-lidded ice blue eyes and a strong, muscular build, and a rather handsome face, long without being horse-like.

"Kain Fuery, ma'am," said the second one, also saluting. He had a roundish, cute face with large hazel eyes behind the thick frames of his glasses. He was smaller and much more compact, not the type of guy you'd think you'd see in the military.

"Well then, shall we get going? Havoc, Fuery, you take the Lieutenant to headquarters. I'll stay behind and make sure Colonel Genya knows the details of the case," ordered Mustang, gesturing vaguely with one hand.

"Mr. Mustang, sir, Killan and I always go to the scene of a crime together. It's protocol." A total lie, but it was at least a little true. Mustang looked taken aback for a second, but then he shrugged nonchalantly. "On second thought, you two take the Lieutenant to the crime scene and I'll take Miss Genya myself."

Fuery and Havoc exchanged significant looks. Killan looked from me to Roy and back again, his eyes narrowed, but in the end left with the other two.

Mustang flashed me a winning smile, running one hand back through his hair. He gestured loosely in the direction of his car, taking one of my hands gently.

"Shall we go?" he asked in a sleek voice, leading me away.

I nodded, even though I was mildly creeped out. We walked to the waiting car, with the Colonel chatting brightly about the weather and various bits of useless stuff like that. I ignored him completely, instead going over what little I knew about the current case I was to begin working on. I slid into the passenger seat and he started the car.

"Miss Erdien," he began, as we began to pull away.

"Call me Genya," I replied absently.

"Genya. Would you do me the honour of joining me for dinner tonight, at, say, eight?"

I blinked.

"What did you say?"

"Genya, I would love to treat you to dinner tonight at eight o'clock."

"As in a date."

He nodded.

"With candles."

More nodding.

"And possibly champagne."

Vigourous nod.

"I don't think you should be giving alcohol to minors, sir."

Mustang choked on whatever smooth remark he was going to say.

"Minor?"

"I'm sixteen. And I hate alcohol."

He sputtered meekly, but in the end he was quiet, and we soon arrived at the crime scene.


	2. Chapter 2

We halted not far from the crime scene, marked by brilliant yellow "DO NOT CROSS" tape.

"Colonel Mustang, sir," I said, "Have you or any of your men been in the crime scene, or moved or touched the body?"

"Well, uhh, other than me, Riza Hawkeye, my subordinate…"

"Did you remove the body?"

"No."

"Good."

I exited the car, and scanned the area quickly. The area that was taped off was an alleyway, with the usual collection of trash, rats and other vermin, plus about half of the the two adjacent storefronts. I could see a baker arguing with one of the military guys, probably complaining about how the crime scene was going to kill business. I'd seen it all before. Ignoring the argument, I walked over to the edge of the tape, wondering where Killan had gotten to.

Soon enough, another military truck pulled up and he jumped out the back, followed shortly after by Havoc and Fuery. He walked quickly over to me.

"So, are Mustang's subordinates really large troll-like boulders with Playboy centrefolds in place of brains?"

I asked with a smirk.

He sighed a luxurious plume of smoke. "Well, they're not complete imbeciles, I'll give them that."

"That's damning them with faint praise. You are such a cynic," I replied, rolling my eyes. "Let's get started, eh?"

We entered the scene of the crime. There really wasn't anything important near the mouth of the alley; no signs of fighting, or bullet casings, nothing like that. The body itself was near the back; young white male, early twenties, brown hair. He was slumped against the brick wall, shot once through the heart, but his throat had also been slit, the blood pooled on the ground and staining the front of his uniform. His hands were bruised; he had apparently tried to fight off his attacker, albeit unsuccessfully. All this I scribbled into my handy little neon green notebook.

Killan pulled several hairs off the victim's sleeve and bagged them as evidence. "One blonde, one black," he commented, studying them carefully. "Not too long, not too short…"

"Uh huh, uh huh," I nodded, writing furiously. "Anything else?"

"Not easy to tell the cause of death…it could be either the gunshot or the severing of the windpipe. We're going to have to wait for the autopsy to come in. Speaking of which, do they even have a coroner here?"

"Not that I know of."

"I think we should ship this guy off to Chino, if you ask me."

"Hell yes. She and Chiu are the best coroners in the military!"

I'm dead serious. The two of them provided the best autopsy reports I've seen in the history of forever. NOTHING, and I mean NOTHING gets past those two. The only problem would be getting the body to them, but I'm sure that it wouldn't be too huge a hassle. Besides, it would be totally worth it.

"Right, " said Killan, "Do they have any witnesses?"

"Well, I heard that that Fullmetal kid was pretty close by when it happened. I think that he was the one who discovered the body. Him and his armour-sporting baby brother. We'll talk to them in a moment. We need photographs."

"Way ahead of you," he answered, handing me the camera. "You were really caught up in that notebook of yours, so I took some liberties."

I smiled. He can be pretty sweet when he wants to be.

We walked back to the crowd that had settled around the scene of the crime, and I tracked down Mustang quickly.

"Colonel, we need to ask the Fullmetal Alchemist a few questions," I said. He nodded, smirking slightly.

"Just don't call him short," he chuckled.

"WHO ARE YOU CALLING SO SHORT THAT HE NEEDS A MEGAPHONE JUST TO GET SOMEONE'S ATTEN—"

The Fullmetal Alchemist turned out to be a short-ish boy of about 14, with blonde hair pulled back into a braid. His eyes were odd, a rather striking shade of brown, almost gold. Currently, he was frozen with his mouth in mid-yell, his eyes practically popping out of his sockets, staring at Killan as if the Lieutenant had suddenly had an alien burst out of his stomach.

The Lieutenant raised one eyebrow quizzically. "Yes?"

"You…you…you're…" sputtered the boy, pointing weakly.

"I'm what?"

"YOU'RE SHORTER THAN ME." He fell to his knees, tears of joy glittering in his eyes. "FINALLY THERE IS SOMEONE OUT THERE WHO IS ACTUALLY SHORTER THAN MEEEE! THERE IS A GOD!" He paused. "How old are you?"

"Twenty-one."

"THERE IS INDEED A GOD!"

"Sorry to interrupt your sudden spiritual awakening, but you wouldn't happen to be the Fullmetal Alchemist, would you?" growled Killan, his half-lidded eyes glimmering dangerously.

"Huh?" The kid had his arms stretched wide, like he was trying to hug the sky. He looked around. People were staring at him. He stood up, and cleared his throat nervously, turning a lovely shade of fuschia. "Ahem… hahaha…uhh, yes. Yes I am."

"Is your brother nearby?"

"He's, uhh, right over there." Fullmetal pointed at a gigantic guy in a suit of armour, who immediately stomped over to us. The armour had a horn on the helmet plus an awesome tassel. I liked it already.

"Nii-san!" exclaimed the armour, "I found you! You just keep getting lost in the crowd!…and who's this?"

"Lieutenant Killan Fellslift, Blade Alchemist," said Killan, massaging his temples.

"I'm Colonel Genya Erdien, the White Wolf Alchemist. And you are…?"

"Alphonse Elric, and this is my older brother Edward," said Alphonse, shaking my hand. "Is there something wrong, Colonel?"

I smiled. For an armour toting weirdo, Al was very polite. "We just need to ask you and your brother a few questions, if you don't mind."

Edward shook his head, still blushing. "Not at all."

"We need to know exactly what you heard or saw last night at around, say, ten-ish," I began, my pen poised over the paper.

"Well, we were heading to the hotel from headquarters, when we heard a commotion. There were two people yelling, then a gunshot, and then the sound of running footsteps, but before we got around the corner the guy had gotten away. We immediately checked the alley, but by the time we got there the guy was dead," recounted Fullmetal thoughtfully, rubbing his chin.

"Then…?"

"I left Al to stay with the body and called headquarters immediately."

Killan's eyes flicked back and forth between Edward and Alphonse, thinned suspiciously. "What exactly took you so long at the military headquarters?" he growled, breathing out a tendril of smoke.

"Paperwork," Ed groaned, shaking his head as if just thinking about it gave him a headache.

"But your brother isn't in the military," continued the Lieutenant, gesturing towards Alphonse with his cigarette.

"Nii-san and I try to stick together most of the time," answered the suit of armour.

Killan raised his eyebrows sceptically. "You don't say."

"It's all true. Just ask Mustang," Edward said, then grumbled something that sounded suspiciously like "that smarmy misogynistic bastard".

"That will be all for now. Thank you very much, Edward and Alphonse." I snapped my notebook closed as the two began to walk away. Killan watched them silently, his brow furrowed as he dragged on his cigarette.

"The armour's hollow," he said finally, "I'm nearly positive. And that kid's right arm is made of metal."

I blinked, and out of the corner of my eye I saw Roy Mustang freeze in the middle of a sentence.

"How can you tell?" I demanded.

"The sound that the younger one makes as he's walking echoes far too much, and I couldn't see any clothing or flesh in between the joints of the armour, and you can't see his face through the helmet. Even with it closed you should at least be able to see his eyes and part of his face." He blew a perfect ring of smoke before continuing. "And the other one…the blonde kid. His right arm creaks a little bit when he moves it. Also, when he was "spiritually awakened" I noticed the shine off his forearm in between his glove and his shirt sleeve."

In my peripheral vision, the Colonel turned slightly towards us, so he could hear us better.

"You never cease to amaze me, Killan," I said, shaking my head incredulously. "I never would have noticed that."

"You will eventually, kid."

"I did, however, note Colonel Mustang's reaction. He seemed shocked that anyone could have figured that out." I made a quick note of it in my book. "I think there's something going on with those kids…"


	3. Chapter 3

"Right," I said, flipping my notebook shut and stowing it away in a pocket, "where to now?"

"Central," cut in Roy, suddenly appearing out of nowhere. Though he was acting pretty natural, I caught a small flicker of worry behind his brown eyes. Obviously the fact that Edward Elric's baby brother was really just a walking tin can with an annoying voice wasn't made open to the public.

"Yay, paperwork!" I said, clapping my hands together in mock joy. "Whenever can we start?"

"Are you kidding? We really can't do much until we get an autopsy report," Killan said. This was his underhanded little way of talking himself out of work. He's not one for filling out formal charts and signing everything and whatnot, but he gets the job done. Even if his way of getting the job done usually ends in some sort of pain. For the killer, that is.

I'll give Mustang credit for not buying it. "I'm sure we can find something for you," he smiled, and I half-expected him to start cackling with evil laughter and for lightning to randomly strike a building behind him.

The Lieutenant growled something inaudible. Well…I heard it, but it'd not something I could write down here without a few eyeballs catching on fire. "So…we're going to Central when?" I asked, if only to break the silent staring contest between Roy and Killan.

"Now-ish would be nice…"

"Fine, fine," said the Colonel, waving us away. "Havoc! Fuery! Take Colonel Genya and her subordinate back to headquarters. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have to go cover my as—I mean, explain to the reporters what's going on here." He walked off, and was swallowed by the crowd not long after.

Almost as soon as Mustang disappeared his subordinates reappeared. These people really have a thing for coming out of nowhere, huh?

The hot blonde guy, Havoc, I believe, cleared the way through the sea of bored teenagers, nosy reporters, people who were lost, and cranky shopkeepers. The assembly was a Class F , or "mostly idiots" according to Killan. A Class A is "Good God, say one thing wrong and those reporters will tear you apart like a pack of wolves".

"Fuery, where's the keys?" Havoc stopped at the door of the van, patting his pockets. "Damn, I knew I had them just a second ago…"

"That wouldn't be them on the seat there, would it?" Killan said, pointing inside the vehicle.

Fuery pressed his face to the window, then looked at Havoc, sighing sadly. "You did it again, sir."

"Wha-are you saying it's my fault? You were supposed to remind me not to lock them inside!" Havoc said indignantly.

"I did, sir. Five and a half times." Fuery blinked innocently up at the taller man.

"Now what?" I asked.

"We could break a window," suggested Havoc, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

"We could pick the lock," replied Fuery, "assuming that someone here knows how."

"Use a coat hanger to pull up the inside locky-thing," I said.

"You need a coat hanger first."

"Or you could break a window."

"Doesn't Mustang give you guys spares?"

"Or you could break the window."

"Look, all we need is some long hook-like object to—"

"This is a goddamn waste of my time," growled Killan, and placed his hands on the window and melted the glass, grabbed the keys, and started up the car. "I'll fix your window later."

Havoc shrugged, and got in the passenger seat, and Fuery and I climbed in back.

"Sir, may I ask…?" began the black-haired man, tapping the Lieutenant on the shoulder.

"Yes…?"

"Umm…can you even reach the pedals?"

Havoc drove us to Central.


	4. Chapter 4

Central Headquarters: A clunky set of buildings that appear to have been designed by a drunken monkey with a crayon between its toes. An EMO drunk monkey, with a taste for dark colours and the occasional ridiculously decorated pillar here and there. On the plus side, the drunk monkey was also an environmentalist, judging by the number of trees in the surrounding area.

"Welcome to paradise," said Havoc, spreading his arms wide, "where the coffee always tastes like window cleaner."

"Oh, god, not here, too?" groaned Killan. "The secretary at our headquarters is an incompetent, wretched little airhead, and HER coffee tastes like turpentine."

"I wouldn't call Riza Hawkeye an airhead…she just likes her coffee…well, "strong", I guess," Fuery said tentatively, looking all around him in an uneasily paranoid fashion.

"Relax, Kain, she's not even here," said Havoc, rolling his eyes. "Let's just go, eh?"

"Sir, I think you should pay more attentio—" began Fuery.

Havoc walked smack into a tree. A maple tree, no less.

"OW! Goddamn tree! Go photosynthesize somewhere else, ya jackass!" barked the Second Lieutenant, and smacked the tree with the back of his hand.

"See, this is why I LIKE being, ah, "vertically challenged"," said Killan, indicating Havoc and his argument with the inanimate plant. "I don't have to worry about something like that happening."

"That's it, Lieutenant, you tell yourself whatever you need to to feel better about your height," I replied overenthusiastically, and ruffled his hair. He sighed in annoyance, and kept walking.

"I sure showed that tree," growled Havoc, trotting up beside me, nursing one hand.

"Of course you did," I responded, patting his shoulder, "now let's go get some ice for that hand of yours, shall we?"

"Nah, I'm good. Just give me a minute or two and I'll be good as new…ma'-wait, no…miss?"

"Miss is fine, though I do prefer just Genya."

"Yes, Miss Genya."

We continued up to the main building, which had great big oaken double doors with fancy carvings on them. I noticed that someone had added "Aurum est Potestas" gold is power and "Caveat Canis" beware of dog as unofficial mottoes of the military. Inside, the lobby was rather elaborate, with shiny marble floors and more oak panelling and whatnot.

"I've always wanted to slide across one of these rooms in my socks," I muttered to myself, eyeing the reflective stone wishfully.

"You could, potentially, though I somehow think that in the long run it would warrant a demotion," said Killan unhelpfully.

"Funny, I don't recall asking you for your opinion."

"Funny, I don't recall you ever thanking me for mine."

"Miss, sir, the Second Lieutenant and I have to go now, but Warrant Officer Vato Falman and Heymans Breda will be coming down in a moment," said Fuery, after hanging up the phone.

"Heymans, eh?" I heard Killan mutter. Usually when he does this, the name of the person in question is a double entendre. I'm not sure what he would be getting at with that one, though.

"If you'll excuse us now, please." Havoc and Fuery saluted smartly, then headed off in separate directions. Probably something to do with paperwork.

Once they were out of earshot, I turned to the Lieutenant.

"Okay, what's so…double-entender-riffic about the name "Heymans"?" I demanded.

"You'll learn about that when you're older," he replied, chuckling evilly. "It's ironic, considering "he" wouldn't have one…"

"Hey, you're not THAT much older than me…" I pouted.

"Ha, yeah right. I've got at least five years on you, miss, I'm sorry to say."

"Oh well, more life for me! At least when I'm on my deathbed I won't be hacking up my lungs…"

"What's that supposed to mean?" Killan said, his eyes narrowing slightly.

"It means that you have a problem," I answered, pointing at his cigarette.

"What can I say? I love the taste of formaldehyde in the morning." As if to prove his point, he nonchalantly blew a smoke ring. I sighed and shook my head. He is IMPOSSIBLE sometimes.

Two men, a tall bleach-blonde and a chunky redhead, came walking towards us. The taller one was rather thin and kinda sallow, and he squinted oddly, so that it looked like his eyqes were nearly closed. The short redheaded dude was, well, chunky, with a certain look to his face that reminded me of a bulldog. They saluted simultaneously.

"Warrant Officer Vato Falman at your service, miss," said the blonde stiffly, standing so tense you probably could have used him as a guitar string.

"Heymans Breda," Breda grinned, now looking even more like a bulldog. "Colonel Mustang asked us to bring you up to his office. If you'd follow me please, miss…?"

"Genya Erdien, White Wolf Alchem-"

"WOLF!" Breda exclaimed, his voice rising several octaves. "WHERE!" He looked all around like a terrified rabbit, his eyes wide.

"Sir, I believe that is Miss Genya's State-issued alchemist name," Falman stated. The shorter man relaxed slightly, wiping his brow.

"You had me worried for a moment there," he huffed, trying to remain dignified. Killan raised an eyebrow slightly.

"Lieutenant Killan Fellslift, Blade Alchemist. Now, are you going to take us to your leader, or just waste my time?" he growled, his eyes half-lidded again. I figured that he was sizing these two up, and filing it away somewhere in his crafty little mind. He has this eerie way of knowing exactly what makes people tick, and usually tends to use it to his advantage. It's rather useful when dealing with people like serial killers, and especially when someone's trying to hide information. I've never seen the Lieutenant fail to squeeze every last bit of info out of an interogee.

"Right away, sir," Falman said, saluting again. Breda just shook his head in exasperation, then the two of them lead us through a ridiculously complicated number of twisting hallways and corridors, until we finally reached the little cranny where they'd stowed away the area designated for Mustang and his subordinates.

The room was your average, everyday office place: CHAOS. Every available surface was covered in piles and piles of papers. A red-haired woman tripped over a small puppy, and her stack of papers flew up in the air like a splash of water. Breda blanched at the site of the innocent little dog, who toddled over and inspected me quite thoroughly, then the Lieutenant, who picked it up by the scruff of its neck and brought it up to his eye level.

"Nice dog," he said, and the puppy licked his nose. He gave it a bored look, and set it back down again. "Husky, right?"

Falman nodded. "Black Hayate belongs to Riza Hawkeye, Colonel Mustang's assistant."

The woman who had tripped over Hayate finished gathering her papers together, and neatly stacked them on top of an already gigantic tower of them.

"Second Lieutenant Havoc, could you hand me that folder to your left, please?" she inquired, and though I couldn't see him, Havoc sounded really really depressed about something.

"Yeah, sure…" He heaved a mournful sigh, and his disembodied hand appeared from behind a skyscraper of former trees, then the top of his head as he stood up. He emerged from the maze of looseleaf, looking rather dejected.

"Why so upset, Havoc?" I asked sympathetically.

He gave me a defeated look, and sighed again. "My girlfriend just broke up with me."

"Oh, really? That's awful!"

He nodded, his shoulders hunched over. "She just gave me a phone call as she was leaving with her new boyfriend to go on a vacation…I don't see why I just don't give up on the whole dating scene…I just have the worst possible luck with women…"

"Havoc, if somebody as cynical as Killan can get himself a fiancée, then there's no reason a sweet guy like you can't," I said sagely, patting the Lieutenant on the head.

The Second Lieutenant did a double-take. "Wha-HE has a fiancée?"

"Indeed," replied Killan, and took out a photograph from his wallet. The blonde man studied it for a moment, and then sighed dejectedly yet again.

"Some guys have ALL the luck…she's a total knockout…"

"She has a sister, you know…" started the Lieutenant as he tucked away the photo, after giving it a slightly wistful look.

"REALLY? Ah, I mean, really?" said Havoc, brightening almost immediately.

"Wait, no…she's married. But her brother is available!"

"That doesn't help me any!" moaned Havoc, slouching again. "Let's face it, I'm doomed to die alone…what girl would want a date with a wreck like me?" Poor Havoc, he looked so incredibly pathetic I just couldn't help myself.

"I'd go out with you, Havoc," I blurted.

The office fell dead silent.

Breda and Falman stared at me, gobsmacked, Breda's eyes the size of dinnerplates, and Falman's about a millimetre wider than usual.

"You're…VOLUNTEERING…to date Havoc?"

I nodded. "Why not?"

"Volunteering."

I nodded.

"To date."

I nodded again.

"Second Lieutenant Jean Havoc."

Vigourous nodding.

Breda burst into gales of helpless laughter. "AHAHAHAHA! You're SERIOUS!"

"Yeah." I frowned slightly. "What's so funny?"

"Nobody EVER volunteers to date Havoc! He's like chick repellant!"

Killan watched this exchange rather coolly, but apparently he felt it was time to put in his two cents.

"You're how old now, Havoc?"

"Twenty-four."

"And you've never been laid once?"

"HOW DID YOU FIND OU-" Havoc barked, but then clapped his hands to his mouth, his blue eyes wide in horror at what he had just revealed. Breda nearly collapsed from laughing, and the Lieutenant smirked slightly. Havoc was very pale except for two small blotches of colour at the top of his cheek bones, and he babbled something about "needing to check on his kriegenspiel", then left as quickly as he could.

"Remind me to strangle you when I get back," I growled at Killan, then took off after Havoc.

The Second Lieutenant took a winding path through about fifty different hallways before retreating into the mens' room. I put my ear to the door, and he burst out a stream of expletives that would have startled Killan. When he was done, I knocked on the door.

"Havoc?" I asked tentatively, "it's Colonel Genya…"

"What the f…what do you want, miss? This is NOT a good time." I could hear the humiliation in his voice, and I really felt sorry for the poor guy.

"Havoc, you know…I was serious when I said I'd go out with you."

No answer.

"How does tonight at eight sound?"

"But you're only sixteen," he protested.

"It's not really a date…think of it as…as a…a reward, for your, err, warm welcome of the Lieutenant and me. It'll be on me."

He hesitated, but poked his head around the door. "You're really serious? You'd date me…if you were old enough?"

I rolled my eyes. "No Havoc, this is a set up, an elaborate hoax set up between Breda, Falman, Killan and I within the ten minutes you were away."

"Ten is a lot of minutes…"

I laughed. "Now, you ready to come out of the water closet, or what?"

Havoc grinned brightly, and we walked back to the office area together. I was kind of in a buzz; my basic thought process was something like:

Omigawdomigawdomigawd I have a date with a total HOTTIE! I wonder if hell is freezing over!

Anyways, back in paperwork paradise, Breda, Falman, the red haired girl, and Killan were all sitting around a small table that had been cleared off.

"I bet fifty," I heard the Lieutenant say as we entered.

"I fold," huffed Heymans, tossing his cards down in frustration.

"I call and raise," piped the redhead, throwing in another twenty. Falman added in his bet, and Killan met it.

"Show your cards, gentlemen and ladies," the Warrant Officer stated, revealing three of a kind. The redhead had a full house, but Killan just smiled slightly.

"Read'em and weep," he chuckled as he revealed four aces, and gathered his winnings.

"I quit," said Breda, "these two are insane at this game!"

"I'll cease playing as well," Falman agreed.

"I'll play you again, sir!" chirped the redhead, fixing her glasses with a determined glint in her eyes.

"AHEM." I gave Killan THE Look.

"You know what? I think I'll be calling it a day, got things to do an' all-" he said quickly, stuffing the cash into his pockets and gathering up the cards. I marched over and grabbed one of his ears, then dragged him out of the room.

"Ow! Ow! Goddammit to hell, lemme go!" he yelped. I released it and stared rather pointedly down my nose at him.

"What have I told you about cheating soldiers out of their cash!" I snapped, my hands on my hips.

He shrugged. "You know what? You're right, Colonel. I mean, why cheat them out of it when I can just lift if off of them?" He held up a wallet, smirking.

"WHAT THE HELL IS WRONG WITH YOU!" I barked. "DO YOU KNOW HOW MUCH TROUBLE YOU'RE GOING TO GET INTO!"

"Relax! Honestly, do you think I'm some kind of common pickpocket? It's my wallet." He shook his head sadly. "You kids these day are so incredibly gullible."

"I am NOT gullible," I said loudly. "Now, take the extra cards out of your sleeves."

"My what out of my what?" Killan inquired, blinking innocently.

"How dumb do you think I am? Wait. Don't answer that. Just do it." As I suspected he took out the four useless cards from his previous hand and a whole whack of aces. I confiscated them. "Now go return the cash."

"Hey-"

"Just do it." I glared hard at him for a moment, but then I had an idea. "Actually, on second thought, go develop the crime scene photos." He began to walk away, and I called after him. "And no smoking in the dark room! It screws up the quality of the photographs!"


	5. Chapter 5

I poked my head back into the office area for a moment.

"Havoc, may I use your telephone for a minute?" I asked.

"Sure thing," the Second Lieutenant answered brightly. He joined me in the hallway and lead me down to the telephone, and I dialled operator as he left.

"Operator," drawled the bored voice of the girl on duty.

"I need you to connect to Aiko Chino's morgue, please," I said.

"Hold, please…"

"Hello?" came Chino's voice from the other line.

"Yo, it's Genya!" I piped, "And man, have I got a case for you!"

Chino glommed onto this like a cow on a salt lick. "How many bodies!" she demanded immediately. "Time of death! Cause of death! Scenario! Murder weapons! Suspects! Gun shot residue!"

"Whoa, whoa, slow down for a sec, there's only one, for now."

"All right then, I guess it's better than none." The coroner sounded slightly disappointed. "What are the victim's injuries?" she inquired with a little less enthusiasm.

"One gunshot wound to the chest, one slash across the windpipe. Victim is young, white male, in his twenties, brown hair, brown eyes."

"Yay, two wounds! I'll take this case! Send the body down to me; it should arrive by nightfall."

"Excellent. Hey, guess what I just learned!"

"The Lieutenant grew?"

Just as a quick side note, Chino and Killan are complete and utter arch-enemies. You put them within forty feet of one another and you might as well seal off the area, 'cuz you've just created your own crime scene. There was this one time where Chino took a swing at him, and the next thing you knew there was this freaky big pile of rubble instead of a street and the two them were laid out flat, Killan spitting out a couple of teeth and Chino nursing a broken nose. I didn't speak to either of them for a month and a half after that.

Anyways, to return to reality…

"Nope. It's even more unexpected. You'll never get it in a million years…" I smirked, imagining how the coroner's mind was clicking away up in the mountains.

"Uhh…he's come out of the closet?"

"Nope. He's getting married!"

I could hear her sharp gasp of surprise. "WHAT? I'M GONNA KILL HIM!" Chino barked, and I held the phone at arm's length so as to preserve my eardrums. She hates it when he's happier than her.

"Why, are you jealous?" I said teasingly.

"NO. You know that I hate anything with a beating heart. I just can't believe he didn't hook up with my friend, you know, the one I introduced him to?"

"What, the old lady?" I shuddered. "God, no one in their right minds would happily date THAT old crone. What was she, ninety-seven? And besides, he and Yukutsu had been dating for, like, EVER when you got it into your twisted little mind that he was single. It's weird, having Killan in love. He gets all…sparkly…when he's thinking of her. And all spaced-out. Sometimes it's like talking to a brick wall." It was kind of sweet, really.

"Put him on the line. I'd like to have a word with him…" Chino trailed off into a low warning growl, and I swore that I heard her cracking her knuckles in the background.

"Okay, but if this turns into a massive shouting match, I'll be cutting you off. Now give me a minute to find him…"

"Find who?" said Killan, somehow materializing behind me. I jumped, and nearly dropped the phone. He caught it neatly, and brought it to his ear.

"Talk to me," he said, lighting another cigarette.

I later got the two of them to transcribe the whole conversation for me, so here it is below:

Killan: Talk to me.

Chino: tersely Hello, Lieutenant.

Killan: I'm happy to speak to you too. What's going on down in your vampiric lair, oh great Queen of the Damned?

Chino: growling Still being mistaken for a four-year-old? You know what? Why don't you and your compromised lung capacity go fu-

Killan: cutting in Was there something you needed? Like some type of life, perchance?

Chino: I hear you're getting hitched.

Killan: suspiciously Did Genya tell you?

Chino: Yep! Who's the poor bitch you're marr-

Killan: harshly Don't you EVER badmouth my Yukutsu, you-!

Chino: defensively Okay, okay, calm down, shorty. I don't recall ever seeing you with an engagement ring.

Killan: aggravated That's because I haven't bought them yet, you little Nosferatic corpselighter.

Chino: You shouldn't be calling me little, leprechaun-san.

Killan: Oh, you're crushing my soul. Now, is that all you wanted? I know of better, more constructive ways of wasting my time.

Chino: Just verifying Genya's statement. You and your blackened lungs can go enjoy another stick of death now. I myself need to go and check if hell is freezing over…

Killan: Have fun…

He hung up, and muttered "necrophiliac" under his breath.

"Well, this is Chino we're talking about here…" I said, shrugging. He shook his head.

"I'm telling you, she's the very incarnation of a bloodsucking fiend, "the evil that dare not speak its name"…"

I frowned. "I don't think that means what you think it means."

"Doesn't it mean "vampire"?"

"Uhh, no." I leaned down and explained it to him.

"Ohh," the Lieutenant said, raising his eyebrows. "Oh, well, either way works for Chino…"

I gave him The Look. "Now, didn't I tell you to go develop those photographs a minute ago?"

He shrugged, avoiding my eyes.

"You got lost, didn't you."

"Not lost, per se. I prefer the term "directionally challenged"."

"Yeah, and zombies prefer the term "living impaired". Now get on it, Lieutenant! I'm not paying you to stand there!"

"Actually, you're not the one who pays me, it's really-"

I gave him The Look Version 2.0.

"All right! All right! I'm going! God, you'd have thought I was sawing puppies in half or somethin'…"

He trotted off again, and I went off to arrange for the transportation of the soldier's body.

"What in the name of all things edible IS this crap?" I exclaimed, staring bug-eyed at the cafeteria tray.

Killan speared a mystery blob on the end of his fork and scrutinized it carefully. "It appears to be," he stated, getting a scientific air about him, "Cow testicles in vitreous humour, garnished with…shavings of charcoal."

"I think it's meatballs," I said simply.

Nearby, Second Lieutenant Havoc clapped a hand to his mouth and turned very green.

"This other stuff here I'm not so sure about, but I think it's supposed to be some sort of gland. And I wouldn't touch this atrocity in the corner here with a ten-foot ninja pole."

"I think that they're perogies and green beans," I said simply.

"I think I'll be eating out today," declared the Lieutenant, sliding the tray to one side carefully, as if one of the monstrosities on it was alive. He stood up and left.

"You know, I never did enjoy reproductive organs a la eyeball fluid avec charred tree much either," I told no one in particular, and got out of the cafeteria as quickly as I could.

For the next two hours, I really did nothing but pace the floor trying to do what I could with the case, or played poker with Havoc, Breda, and the red-haired girl, whose name turned out to be Sheska. Well, that's not entirely true. I spent forty-five minutes staring blankly at a wall, for a change of pace. There was not that much to work with concerning the crime, but one of the most obvious clues there was that the murderer or murderers were either blonde haired or black haired. Not much of a lead at all.

I sighed, and slapped down my cards. "Pair of fives an' a pair of kings."

"Three aces," said Sheska brightly, fixing her glasses with a mischevious glint in her eyes.

"Pair of deuces," muttered Havoc, tapping his fingers on the table.

"Four aces," said Breda, looking mildly confused, "but that can't be right…someone here is cheating."

"Seven aces? Oh, I know EXACTLY whose fault this is," I growled, flexing my fingers. "And when he gets back here…"

The door to the office area slammed open.

"Greetings and salutations!" said Killan brightly, bowing deeply. "I return!"

"Yo, Killan. What's got you so…sparkly…all of a sudden, huh?" I swore that he was practically glowing.

"I'm not entirely sure. But what I DO know is that…" He struck a dramatic pose for a moment, and then launched himself into an incredible number of backflips and other acrobatics like a human firework. He landed on a desk, spun around, sending a drift of paperwork up in a lazy spiral, and swept his hair back with one hand.

"Are you feeling okay?" I asked, my eyes several times their normal size. " ," sang the Lieutenant. His singing voice was surprisingly deep, and actually was pretty damn good.

"My god, are you singing Rurouni Kenshin! Havoc, quick, where's the infirmary!" I demanded sharply, now completely unnerved. Killan shook his head at me, and rocked back and forth on his heels.

"Hold thy peace, young maid, for though I may speak akin to a man possessed, there is good reason for my madness. I bear upon my person the rings with which my beloved and I shall be united!"

Havoc raised an eyebrow. "You bought handcuffs?"

Killan looked at him as if he were an idiot. "No, you dullard, I bought engagement rings!"

"OH!" I said, blinking in shock. "Congratulations, Lieutenant!"

"Thank you kindly, miss." He bowed again, his eyes sparkling happily. "It took me a while to choose them. What's your take?" He bounded off the desk, landed neatly and displayed the rings for us.

"Wow."

Simple and elegant. Killan had chosen a pair of golden rings with glittering amethysts set into them, the stones so dark they were nearly black.

"Damn," said Breda approvingly, "you could practically see those rocks from space!"

Killan flushed proudly. "I hope she likes them…"

"So, when are going to pop the question?" I asked.

"When we get back from this case," he replied brightly, tucking the rings away again. "It'll be her birthday in about two weeks, so I'll be proposing then."

Havoc looked a little dejected. "I wish I had a girlfriend," he muttered, and sighed.

I poked him in the ribs, and he cheered up considerably.

"Oh yes, and here are those photographs you wanted me to develop," said the Lieutenant, handing me a folder. I thanked him, and quickly flipped through them.

"Ah, I'll go over these later. Thanks again, lover boy."

"Your wish is my command," he laughed, bowing.

"Well then, genie, I wish for a cup of coffee."

Killan saluted stiffly. "So it is written, so it is done." He bounded off happily, bursting back into his rendition of Rurouni Kenshin.

Breda shook his head admiringly. "What a guy."

"You should see him when he's actually with her. It's really quite something."

"Lemme guess," said Havoc with a note of disdain, "big dewy eyes, holding hands, fluttery eyelashes, bouquets of pink flowers."

"Eww, no." I curled my lip in disgust. "I figure that if the Lieutenant ever actually touched a pink flower that he'd melt on contact. No, it's more like the devouring of each others' faces. Well, I'm exaggerating, but they really are in love."

Havoc placed a hand on his forehead and swooned. "Oh, how romantic!" he chirped, fluttering his eyelashes, then gagged.

"Art thou envious, Second Lieutenant?" Killan asked, reappearing with coffee in hand.

The blonde man pointedly avoided the Lieutenant's gaze.

"No. Of course not."

I took a sip of the coffee, and promptly choked on it. "My god! What the hell IS this stuff?"

"Nuclear coffee, Lieutenant Hawkeye-style," said Breda, patting me on the back.

"Holy shit, it really does taste like paint thinner! Is this Lieutenant of which you speak some sort of robotic android woman?"

"Wait, you mean that there are other Lieutenants in existence?" asked Killan incredulously. "I thought I was the only one to suffer!"

You see, up in the mountain headquarters, the Lieutenant really is THE Lieutenant. Due to our small size, there's one of him and three other Colonels, and because of the lack of other subordinates he's the one who ends up being our lackey. The rest of the higher-ups excluding me-I want to LIVE! fondly refer to him as "our very own surly leprechaun". Behind his back, of course.

After the Lieutenant's revelation, the rest of the day passed pretty much uneventfully, until about five in the evening.

"Colonel Genya, you have a phone call," said Havoc, pointing to the phone. "Some crazy lady who says that she wants to, err…" He put the phone back to his ear. "What was that again? Uh huh…yeah…" He covered the mouthpiece. "She says that she wants to "rips your lungs out and use them as water balloons". Should I hang up?"

"That sounds like Chino. I'll take it. Thanks, Havoc….Hello?"

There was a brief, ominous, terribly pregnant pause. "Hello, Genya," hissed the voice on the other line. Chino was pissed. Very, VERY pissed.


End file.
